Expectations
by impsy
Summary: Neither Anders nor Nathaniel quite know what to make of the woman that saved their lives. Coulistair; "Awakening" beginning spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

A slightly longer blurb of a story about Dragon Age, this time set during the beginning of "Awakenings" and focusing on the friendship between Anders and the PC (Cousland). A second chapter about Nathaniel and Cousland will be coming soon as well. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Anders was having a hell of a week.

And for once, most of the insane things happening around him weren't even his fault, he thought, kicking a dented darkspawn helmet so it clanged against the stone walls of Vigil's Keep. The younger and more excitable of his two new companions looked at him with disdain at the noise, and he tried to look apologetic. _No need to make them hate me _quite _yet._

Sure, he'd managed to escape again, so the week had started off pretty good. He'd traveled all the way from the Tower to the city of Amaranthine without incident, using all his old tricks and contacts to move quickly and avoid those blasted Templars. He'd been hopeful that he could actually stay out of the Tower this time, and he'd hoped to find Namaya and his phylactery so he could evade the Templars on a more permanent basis. Unfortunately, and unexpectedly, they'd managed to get their heads out of their asses long enough to find and capture him again.

_I hate surprises, _he thought glumly. _I really had hoped they'd let me alone until I could find my phylactery. _He'd expected the Templars to remain as stupid as they usually were – or, at least, less intelligent than himself – but the addition of Templar Rylock to the group hunting him had put a crimp in his plans.

He hadn't gone down without a fight, of course. He'd learned from prior escape attempts that he couldn't hold back if he hoped to escape, especially with how quickly they could take away his spellcasting ability, but still, he was loathe to kill the poor idiots. Though they treated him like a dangerous animal, something to be caged and feared and never understood, they were still _people_.

And as much as he hated to admit it, they were all trapped, just as he was, though their prisons were made of lyrium addiction instead of metal and stone and earth.

_Unlike me, those poor bastards can't even _try _to escape lyrium withdrawl, _he thought with a momentary twinge of pity, tossing a fireball at yet another darkspawn charging toward him.

Of course, he didn't feel bad for _most_ of them, as he was sure many had joined the Templars willingly and kept him from his freedom without a twinge of guilt, so he did what he could to make their lives difficult after they recaptured him. They took away his ability to cast spells, but they hadn't bothered with a gag to shut him up, so constant mockery was one of the few ways he was able to get back at them. He didn't feel like he deserved to get kicked as much as he did, but he honestly felt lucky that that was about the worst of what they did to him.

_One of these days,_ he thought. _One of these days, they'll tire of chasing me, and decide that I'm far more trouble than I'm worth. Which is approximately... nothing, according to the Chantry, _he snorted derisively, and the sound caused his new companion to look at him, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

He smiled and shook his head, and, thankfully, she shrugged and left him alone with his thoughts.

Anders hadn't been able to help the Templars guarding him in Vigil's Keep. He didn't _like _them, but he wasn't a murderer and no matter how many times they captured and kicked him, he wasn't going to just stand there and let them die.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what he was forced to do. The Templars were very skilled at taking away his magic and keeping him powerless. When the darkspawn had attacked, taking everyone by surprise, he didn't have the time to recover his spellcasting ability before most of them were cut down. The few Templars still standing fought the beasts while Anders pulled the key to his cell from the pocket of one of the bodies that had fallen nearby. By the time he'd gotten the cell unlocked and his magic had returned enough for him to actually _do _something with it, the rest of the Templars had fallen, leaving him to eliminate the few remaining darkspawn.

And then an extremely intimidating stranger in heavy plate armor walked into the room, two swords drawn and ready, and he took a few steps back in surprise before he realized he wasn't about to be attacked. The figure pulled off its helmet to reveal a beautiful, but very serious-looking, young woman.

He'd managed to stammer out what appeared to be sufficient explanation on why he, an admitted apostate, was surrounded by the corpses of Templars, and the woman seemed to believe him. This made him feel much better, until he realized that she was most likely just using him to get rid of the darkspawn in the keep before turning him in to the Tower again.

_Or maybe she actually _does _believe me,_ he thought hopefully. _Maybe she likes mages and apostates. I don't know her, maybe she's not like them._ He stopped in place, suddenly realizing something.

She took a few more steps before realizing he wasn't moving anymore, and looked back at him curiously. "Something wrong?"

"I should think so," he replied, trying to appear deadly serious. She looked concerned, and he grinned. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

She smiled at this. "There are three of us invading a highly-defensible keep that has been taken over by darkspawn, and your biggest worry is my name?"

"Obviously," he replied. "You have the advantage here, my dear lady. Not only do you know that my name is Anders, but you also know that I am an apostate mage who dislikes the Tower immensely and doesn't usually get along with Templars."

"That's fair," she replied with a little smile. "My name is Irien."

"And it is an honor to make your acquaintance," he said with a wink and an elaborate bow. "Being the honest, upright apostate that I am, I have to tell you that I wasn't quite as naïve about you as I led you to believe, as I did notice that Mhairi called you 'commander,'" he admitted. "So I take it that you're a Grey Warden, yes? Perhaps the Commander of the Grey?"

"Good guess," she confirmed, and they began to walk again. "As of just recently, though. There are so few Wardens in Ferelden that they were fairly desperate for someone to take the position."

Ahh, so she was one of the new Wardens, he realized, and she must have been quickly promoted just to make sure that an Orlesian wasn't running everything here. He obviously hadn't been able to keep up-to-date on current events while in solitary confinement for the past year, but he knew a few vague things, with no details on how they'd happened. There had been a rebellion, a Blight, and the death of King Cailan and crowning of King... something, Anders couldn't quite remember. He'd always told himself that he'd catch up on current events once he actually managed to escape the Tower, when it'd be useful. He did know that there were _very _few Wardens in Ferelden, but their numbers were slowly growing. Irien must be one of the new recruits.

But he was nothing if not observant, always looking for a weak point or opening, and he also noted that she was speaking a bit hesitantly and wondered why. Was she not used to talking about herself? Hiding something? Didn't trust him?

"It wasn't exactly what I wanted to do," she continued, "but it's part of being a Warden, I suppose. Doing the things you don't always want to." And she _definitely _sounded a little sad there. _Perhaps a bit of prodding_...

"Understandable," he said, trying not to sound as curious as he was. "The life of a Warden is a dangerous one, always fighting the darkspawn and getting kicked out of countries and causing all sorts of trouble," he said cheerfully. "I can't imagine that the Commander of the Grey has an easy time being in charge of so many different people, in addition to all that. Did they recruit you from the army into the Wardens, and that's how you wound up as the commander? Or was the promotion a punishment from some cruel higher-ranked Warden who didn't want the job himself?"

"The latter," she replied with a little half-smile. "King Alistair gave the order, and as much as I wanted to tell him where he could stick that order, I didn't have much of a choice."

_Made Commander of the Grey by King Alistair himself? _Anders was now even more curious than before, and thankful that she'd said the man's name so he didn't look like a fool not knowing who his king was. "How did you manage-" he started to ask, but Irien urgently motioned at him to be quiet, they were approaching a group of darkspawn who hadn't seen them yet, and he shut his mouth quickly.

_Too many darkspawn for questions now, _he thought, preparing a spell. _My curiosity will have to wait._

* * *

An hour later, he had more answers, but even more questions.

It started after they'd rescued Seneschal Varel. They were talking with him for a moment in the courtyard when a good-sized group of soldiers had approached from the road, surrounding a handsome man in golden armor. The man had joined their little group and made a crack about missing out on killing darkspawn, and Mhairi had immediately kneeled.

_So, this is the new king,_ Anders had thought, looking him over with curiosity. He definitely wasn't what he'd expected from the man who ended a Blight and a civil war, both of which had been pretty bad from the little he'd overheard since escaping. He wondered how the new king had managed it, especially since he only appeared to be around Anders' age. Alistair had a ready grin and casual way of speaking and standing that Anders immediately liked, so much so that he would've had difficulty believing this really was the king if Mhairi hadn't addressed him by name and title.

He wasn't quite sure what to do – kneeling seemed so formal, but just standing there probably wasn't a good idea either, if he hadn't wanted to be disrespectful to the new royalty within ten seconds of meeting him.

He'd glanced at Irien, hoping he could take his cue from her, but she wasn't bowing or kneeling or _anything _except looking at Alistair, and the look on her face just made him more intrigued about her history, _especially_ her history with this man. She had practically lit up when the king approached, and he barely knew her at all, but he was still surprised at how happy she seemed. He'd initially assumed that she'd taken the position of the Commander of the Grey because the king wanted her out of the way, or maybe he knew how skilled she was and he'd had to force her to accept the title.

_Something is obviously going on between them,_ he thought, and wondered if he'd get to ask Irien about it later or if he'd be back in a cell before he got a chance.

He'd gotten his answers just a moment later.

"And how about you, dear wife?" Alistair had asked, and he saw that the look of adoration on the king's face was identical to the one on Irien's. "Not too badly hurt, I see?

"Planning on joining me, dear husband?" Irien had replied impishly,

"Oh, I _wish_," Alistair replied with a grin. "Don't even tempt me like that, you minx. Eamon will have a heart attack."

Anders hadn't quite known what to think, just stood there listening to the conversation in shock for a few minutes. Not only had he been rescued by an extremely intimidating warrior woman, that woman was also married to the king? _So, the queen, _he'd thought, feeling a bit slow on the uptake. He hadn't expected to escape the Templars at all, and then not only did all the Templars get killed, but the queen had come to his aid, as well. In his surprise, his thoughts were more slippery and difficult to organize than usual.

And then, just when he thought Templar Rylock was going to drag him back to the Tower for the seventh time, Irien had rescued him _again, _this time with a Right of Conscription and the approval of the king and a feeling of permanency. Before he could wrap his mind around the fact that he'd truly been recruited, they'd all gone inside and drank some disgusting blood from that giant cup, and as easy as that, he was a Grey Warden. He'd been puzzled; he thought it would be more difficult, or more painful, or _something _more than a bad taste and his eyes going funny for a moment.

But he thought maybe it wasn't quite so easy once he saw Mhairi collapse on the ground and Varel declared her dead, and he felt a moment of pity for the poor, excitable woman before he'd had to sit down because all of a sudden his head was _killing _him. Then he was quite glad he was sitting down because he couldn't keep himself sitting up anymore and everything went black.

* * *

"Anders? Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

He was on the ground, and he could tell he was outside because he could feel grass tickling the back of his neck and hear birds chirping _far _too happily for how he was feeling at the moment. He groaned and opened his eyes, then shut them again quickly at how bright it was and covered them with his hands. "I hate the light," he said groggily.

"Don't let the Chantry hear you say that," Irien reminded him, sounding amused. "I think they're probably angry enough at you already."

"Good point." He hesitantly removed his hands and slowly opened his eyes again, trying to get used to the brightness of the sun. "What happened?" he asked, sitting up with a bit of difficulty.

"You passed the Joining, and then passed out," she explained. She was sitting on the ground next to him. She'd removed her armor after the battle – and he couldn't blame her, it seemed heavy and uncomfortable – and now was wearing a simple, long-sleeved blue tunic and brown pants. Her short red hair was tied back with three leather bands to keep it out of her face, and two swords were in their scabbards on the ground beside her. "It's normal, don't worry. It happens to most people after the Joining, from what I've heard. Varel and I thought you could use the fresh air, so we carried you out here and I waited for you to wake up."

"And Oghren?"

"He's fine. He didn't faint or even feel ill," she said with an unladylike snort. "I think he's used to it. He's had much worse to drink than darkspawn blood, I can assure you."

"Huh." They were both silent for a minute, enjoying the sun and the cool northern air, but eventually he couldn't stop himself from talking anymore. "So you're the queen!" he blurted out, then slapped a hand to his forehead in embarrassment. "Can we pretend that I said that in a way that didn't make me sound like a complete fool?"

She grinned at his request, but nodded. "I am," she said simply. "Haven't been for long; Alistair and I just got married a few months ago, and before that I was just Irien Cousland."

"You think 'just' is the right word? You were 'just' a member of one of the most important noble houses in Ferelden?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Compared to 'Queen of Ferelden and Commander of the Grey, Irien Cousland-Theirin,' I think 'just' Irien Cousland is pretty accurate," she countered. "Life was much simpler, especially as the second child in the house. My brother had most of the responsibility; all I had to do was train, take lessons, and ignore my mother when she begged me to get married. My duties now are a bit more complicated."

He had to admit that she had a point. "I feel a bit betrayed, my lady. I admitted immediately that I am an apostate, yet you conveniently forgot to mention the fact that you are royalty when we introduced ourselves."

She looked a bit sheepish. "I hate to talk about it. It feels like I'm showing off," she said hesitantly. "I know it sounds silly. I just get treated so differently since I married Alistair; it almost makes me miss the Blight when no one knew who we were."

"I see," he said thoughtfully, trying to piece together her story. _It would have been easier if she'd just told me this from the start, but I suppose I can see why she didn't. _"So let me see if I have this right. You didn't just marry Alistair just because of your noble birth; you refused to marry, so it wasn't arranged by someone else," he said, counting the information on his fingers. "You aren't one of the new Warden recruits; you were one already, before the Blight ended, because you miss those days. No one knew who you and Alistair were; you were with him before he was the king. Now I'm a bit rusty on my knowledge of current events – comes with being locked away in a tower – but I believe that means you helped end the Blight and put Alistair on the throne, yes?"

Irien looked surprised. "Yes, actually," she said, and he felt a bit smug at getting everything right. _I may be behind, but give me half the information and I'll figure out the other half._ "I was recruited by the Wardens after most of my family was betrayed and killed by Arl Howe – this used to be his, by the way." She motioned at the keep around them, and he was amazed at how calmly she was able to state the fact of her family's murder. _Is she really over it so quickly? She can't be._

"I met Alistair at the Battle of Ostagar," she continued. "That's where Loghain betrayed King Cailan and let the darkspawn horde destroy him, his army, and nearly all the Wardens in Ferelden. It took six months and a lot of luck, but we were able to recruit enough allies to defeat the Archdemon and put Alistair on the throne; he's the bastard son of King Maric," she explained, and he nodded his understanding. "Alistair has ruled since the end of the Blight with the help of Arl Eamon, and we were married a month ago."

He was dying to know more about what happened. _Don't push it, _he scolded himself. _You were probably lucky to get this much information from her; I doubt she tells this much to everyone who asks. _"So that's the short version of how you saved Ferelden," he said with a smile.

She looked uncomfortable at this. "It wasn't just me," she said, shifting in place a bit. "I helped, but without everyone else, I couldn't have done anything. Oghren was a part of the group, too, but you don't see people bowing and practically worshipping him." She sighed. "Everyone keeps calling me the Hero of Ferelden or Commander or my lady or queen or any other title they think of to throw at me, and I miss being _Irien _and a little more anonymous, not always having to worry about what people will think. I know I shouldn't complain, I'm so lucky and my life is wonderful, but it was nice to just be _me, _Irien the Grey Warden,instead of Queen or Commander, even if it was just for a little while, and just with you."

They sat together in silence for a moment, but it was a companionable one, and eventually Anders spoke again. "I understand how you feel," he said. "Your position makes people respect you immediately, but you feel like you have to _earn _respect, not just get it from someone hearing your titles, yes?" She nodded in agreement, and he continued. "I find I have the opposite problem. If I fail to mention that I am an apostate and people find out later, any respect or trust I may have earned is gone. So I tell them the bad news immediately, and hope that I'm able to win their trust through my actions, despite what I am."

She nodded thoughtfully and was quiet for a moment. "Well, you're not an apostate now," she pointed out with a smile. "You don't have to work for their respect anymore."

He laughed. "Excellent point, and thank you for saying so. And I was in a cell for the past year and know little of your heroic deeds, so you won't be able to rely on your titles to get _my _respect," he teased.

She smiled. "Thank you, Anders." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I don't think I've ever thanked anyone for not respecting me before."

"You can always count on me for that," he grinned.

She stood up and offered him a hand. "Shall we go see what we should do to prevent the darkspawn from bothering Vigil's Keep again, Grey Warden Anders?"

He took her hand and stood. "Absolutely, Irien Cousland."

They began walking back towards the keep, and he smiled to himself. _She is definitely not what I expected in a queen, or a commander, or a noble, _he thought, _but for once, I believe I prefer being surprised._


	2. Chapter 2

And another chapter done! I'd initially planned on this being a oneshot, but I decided that Nathaniel's character and the start of his odd friendship with Cousland needed some work as well. A bunch of dialog taken directly from the game, with my own spin and additional dialog added to it.

Another chapter of this fic is in the works already, and then I swear I'm going back to Mass Effect 2 to do the next story after "Demigod." Reviews are always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Nathaniel hadn't really known what to expect upon returning to Ferelden.

It had been eight years since he'd seen his family and his childhood home, and though he hadn't particularly missed either of them, he still occasionally thought of them and wondered how they'd changed in the time he'd been away.

In general, however, he'd tried to avoid thinking about his father when he was in the Free Marches. As an adult looking back on and critically considering his childhood, he found that he had nothing but bad memories of him. If he was being honest, it wasn't only freedom he'd sought when he left, but a fresh start. He had little love for the man even now.

But he was still a Howe. As much as he tried to pretend otherwise, he was still devoted to the family name, if not the family itself. When he'd heard rumors of a Blight, Loghain's rebellion, and the death of King Cailan and most of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, he hadn't particularly cared, since he doubted any of it would affect him much. Tales of Arl Rendon Howe's murder at the hands of a surviving Warden, however... that was enough to incite more feeling for his father than he'd had in years.

He'd left for Ferelden the next day. He hadn't known exactly what he was going to do; he found that he was barely in control of himself as he made the trip back. He hardly remembered finding passage on a ship, the few days on seas rough enough to suit his mood, the exhausted day and night he'd spent at an inn at Amaranthine. His feet seemed to take him toward Vigil's Keep of their own volition.

He only knew that he had to avenge his father, and kill whoever this murderer Warden was.

His plan for vengeance was delayed, however, upon being discovered in the Keep by four Grey Wardens, who had managed to stop him. Despite his unplanned capture, the infiltration did give him something, even if it wasn't the revenge he sought. He learned that not only was the Warden who killed his father on her way to Vigil's Keep, but she was the new Commander of the Grey, the Hero of Ferelden, the one who had ended the Blight, and the Maker-be-damned queen.

_My father is dead and my family name is slandered, and the one who caused both of these gets nothing but praise and more power, _he'd thought bitterly, sitting in his cell. _The world is just and fair, as always._

But occasionally, the world _was _just and fair, and he couldn't help but feel a bit smug as he saw darkspawn run past the window of his prison and heard the screams of the Wardens who were occupying hisfamily's home. Even as he sat there, expecting to die at any moment, he regretted that he hadn't been able to confront the woman who'd killed Rendon Howe.

And then everything was quiet again. For some time he wondered if he should free himself now, before the darkspawn found him, or wait until cover of night but run the risk of them stumbling in to the prison before that. But then that same Maker-damned guard who had been with him for the past three days walked back in to the prison as calm as could be, like the entire keep hadn't just been under attack.

_I should count myself lucky, _Nathaniel thought, though he didn't feel very lucky at all. _The Wardens still haven't figured out who I am. I wasn't killed by Wardens or darkspawn. The keep seems to be relatively intact. And, _he smiled,_ I may still have a chance to kill my father's murderer._

He wondered how long he would be stuck in this cell. It had only been three days, but he'd been so used to having complete control over his life in the Free Marches – so much more so than he'd ever had at the Keep – that he was feeling extremely restless. He could have freed himself twenty times over by now, but he was still holding out hope that the new Commander of the Grey would make a personal appearance so he could get the vengeance he so desperately longed for.

_And then I'll be free, _he thought stubbornly. _Free of this cell, free of Rendon Howe, free of being a Howe at all._

He wondered if he would survive when he tried to kill her. According to the rumors he'd heard while being stuck here, the woman ended the Blight, and from all accounts was a force to be reckoned with. He knew that if he had been able to set a trap for her, there would have been no chance for her at all, but he hadn't gotten to do so due to a critical error.

As he'd walked through his childhood home, he'd found himself reliving memories, times that he had forced himself to forget until they were stirred by being in the place where they'd occurred. He'd remembered playing with his siblings in the stables, stealing food from the cooks in the kitchen, his father's anger whenever he interrupted him in the library. His rage at the murder was pushed aside briefly. As much as he hated them, he wasn't able to help it – he'd had to see his parents again.

So he had made his way in to the Great Hall where he knew their portraits would be hanging. And as he stared up at his father's face, sneering in the portrait just as he always used to sneer in life, he wondered if he would ever be able to truly escape his father's shadow and what was now the curse of his family name.

Before he'd been able to come back to his senses and hide, the Wardens had spotted him, and through the force of sheer numbers, they were able to capture him.

So he sat in a cell, waiting to either kill or be killed by the woman who'd killed his father. If he was being honest, he couldn't force himself to particularly care either way. He just wanted it done.

And as if she cared what he wanted, the woman who must be Commander of the Grey and Queen of Ferelden Irien Cousland-Theirin strolled in to his prison, flanked by a mage and a dwarf. His jailor bowed and scraped just as Nathaniel had expected.

"Who is he?" she asked, nodding toward Nathaniel as if he couldn't hear her.

The idiot shrugged. "He won't give his name. All I know is he was caught poking around the estate in the middle of the night." _You don't know the half of what I was doing, fool, _he thought. "I'd say he was just a thief, but it took four Grey Wardens to capture him. You best be careful. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary burglar, that's for sure."

The Warden nodded, looking at Nathaniel. "Leave me to talk with him."

The man bowed formally. "As you wish, Commander. I'll tell the seneschal you came," he added almost as an afterthought, as he handed her the keys and started for the door. "He'll want to know what you decide to do with this man."

She wasted no time in unlocking and opening the door to his cell, and Nathaniel got to his feet a bit awkwardly with his hands shackled in front of him.

"Are you sure that's wise?" the mage asked, taking a hesitant step back and looking a bit nervous. "Didn't the guard say he was dangerous?"

The dwarf guffawed. "Did you pay _any _attention in the Keep, lad? If you're sayin' that three of us can't handle one of him, they might need to give you the boot from the Wardens for bein' too damn daft even for them!"

The Commander didn't respond, just approached him in the cell with an expression of slight curiosity. He couldn't hold back a sneer as she stepped closer. "If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight vanquisher and of all evil," he said mockingly. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall? With lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I see my reputation precedes me."

"It does," he said flatly. "I know you best as the one who murdered my father." She didn't respond at first, unsure of whom he meant. _She's killed too many fathers to have any idea who I mean, _he thought. "My name is Nathaniel Howe. My family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"

She changed completely when he mentioned his family name. She'd seemed calm and reserved until this point, but at this, her hands curled into fists and her whole body tensed. _What's she so upset about? _he thought, his anger pushed aside for a moment. "Anders, Oghren," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Wait for me outside."

"Are you sure that's a good-" the mage began, then was cut off with a loud "ow!" when the dwarf elbowed him. "Er, yes, it is a very good idea, see you outside," he said as the dwarf practically dragged him out.

The Warden didn't look away from Nathaniel for even a moment during this exchange, her eyes narrow. The door shut, and she finally spoke again. "Arl Howe killed my family," she said. Her voice was quieter than before, but he could almost see her shaking in anger. "He deserved everything he got!"

That he hadn't known, but he couldn't say he was terribly surprised. The Cousland family home at Highever was near enough to Amaranthine that they'd been able to visit a few times a year. While Nathaniel hadn't ever been allowed to go himself – he wasn't the favored son, and his father always told him that he couldn't be trusted not to cause trouble if he came along on the visits. But he remembered that his father had always come home furious, insisting that the Couslands were weak, Orlesian sympathizers, and Bryce didn't deserve to be Teryn. The fact that Rendon had wound up killing them was no shock to him at all, especially if even half of what his father had said about them was true. "Your family was going to sell us out to the Orlesians!" he retorted.

The Warden laughed a little in stunned disbelief at his response, shaking her head and looking at him in amazement. "I suppose your father told you that?" she said, as if it wasn't a question at all.

"How could he?" he shot back. "A Grey Warden stole into his estate and slaughtered him before I even got a chance to talk to him."

She didn't have a response to that, instead just crossing her arms. He sighed and looked down. His wrists were sore from the shackles, and he tried moving the chains to a slightly more comfortable position on his arms. _She lost her family and actually grieves them, _he thought. _I lost my father and all I can think of is getting revenge, for a man I didn't even love and doubt I'll even miss._

"I came here..." he began, then stopped himself, considering what to tell her, deciding to go with brutal honesty. _All I could do was lie to my father to make him happy, or at least less angry, _he thought. _Maybe a different approach will work here._ "I thought I was going to try to kill you. To lay a trap for you," he admitted. He didn't look at her, not yet. He didn't want to see her reaction to this statement until he told her everything. "But then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things." He sighed, staring at his chains. "It's all I have left."

"You tried to have me killed?" She didn't sound surprised, or even angry, and he looked back up to see that her expression had returned to neutral after her outburst about her family.

"That was the plan," he replied flatly, then relented a little. "Look, I don't know what happened with the Couslands," he admitted. "It sounds like it was horrible. The entire war was," he said sadly. "Whatever my father did, however, shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left. It's all thanks to you." His bitterness was clear in his voice. "And now you get to decide my fate. Ironic, isn't it?"

She was silent for a long moment. "What will you do if I let you go?"

"If you let me go?" he asked in surprise, before he could stop himself. _I never planned on walking out of this without you dead, _he thought at her. _I was going to kill you and run, or die trying to kill you. This is... a surprising change. _"I... don't know," he said hesitantly, not daring to tell her the full truth of his intentions, his expectations of his own death. "I only came back to Ferelden a month ago. If you let me go, I'll probably come back here," he admitted flatly. "You might not catch me next time."

The Warden leveled a serious look at him. "You're not making the best case for yourself."

He shrugged. "I could lie, if you prefer." _But I feel like you don't._

She paused a moment, considering what he'd said. "If I let you go," she said, "I don't want to see you again."

He laughed, a short bark that made her start in surprise. "That would be more convenient for you, wouldn't it?" He shook his head. "If you're going to hang me, hang me. One more death shouldn't really bother you."

"Do you really hate me so much?"

His lip curled in anger at this question. Of _course_ he did._ That question clearly means, "don't you also think your father deserved to die? Shouldn't you be thanking me for conveniently disposing of him?" She's worse than I thought if she truly thinks I won't hate her for killing my father, despite what a bastard he was. _But he kept his mouth shut on that thought.

"The darkspawn are a menace," he said instead, trying to dodge the question a bit. "If it weren't for the Blight, maybe my father would never have... done what he did."

He wondered if he'd just lied to her. After all, Rendon had been expressing his hatred of the Couslands to his family for years. _All he needed was an opportunity, _he thought. _The fear and distraction of a Blight would certainly provide that for him, but I doubt he would have put it off forever._

"But I can't do anything about them, can I?" he continued. He could hear how angry he sounded, how powerless he knew he was. _Rendon's death was mostly his own fault, _he admitted to himself, _but she was the one who took his life, and she can't just get away with that, no matter how much he may have brought it on himself. _"There's just you and the Grey Wardens, here in my home."

"Perhaps you should work to redeem your name," she suggested.

He had to stop himself from laughing in her face, instead settling on a sneer. "You're right. I'll go join King Alistair's service immediately," he said dryly. "He'll be certain to give a Howe another chance!" _Especially since my father murdered his wife's family._

Nathaniel wondered exactly how it had happened. His father had never been one for a direct confrontation when he wasn't absolutely certain of victory, and since the Couslands' military and political strength both far outstripped the Howes', he could only assume that there had been a betrayal of some kind. _That would be more his style, _he thought.

In his mind's eye, he could practically see what his father must have done. The families had been allies for years, so a visit wouldn't be unexpected or unwelcome. Bryce and Eleanor had probably welcomed Rendon to their home with open arms, and additional soldiers he'd brought along could be explained by the fear of darkspawn and the Blight. Then under the cover of darkness, he would have eliminated the Couslands without hesitation, without second-guessing or mercy. They wouldn't have seen it coming, and it was probably over before anyone had any idea what had happened.

_He was a traitor, _he admitted to himself. _He supported the man who left his king to die, ignored a Blight to focus on his own power, and killed Teryn Cousland for his title._

It was a power-grab years in the making, and Nathaniel was truly shocked by just one aspect of it – after all his father's careful planning and what must have been perfect timing, the attempt had still failed completely. He wondered, too, how he had failed. Perhaps it was Loghain's fault, and after all of Rendon's betrayals, he'd been betrayed in return.

But he suspected that the answer to his father's downfall was standing right in front of him. Against all odds and all Rendon's planning, Irien Cousland had survived. He was sure that his father had tried to kill her – any remaining heirs or members of the family would have made Rendon's already flimsy claim to Highever even weaker. He wondered if she was there when her parents were killed or if she'd already become a Grey Warden and had only heard about it later. He wasn't sure which one would have been worse.

"I didn't know," he said suddenly.

She looked a bit startled. "What?"

"I didn't know what he did to your family, not until you told me he killed them," he said. "I still don't know what he did or most of what went on during the war, to be perfectly honest. As if that makes a difference," he snorted. "I was still coming here to kill you, after all, even without knowing what happened. I had just heard in the Free Marches that my father was dead and that you were the one who killed him. I can't say I was too upset to hear that he was gone; I just knew that family honor dictated that I had to get revenge."

She didn't respond. Her expression was a careful neutral, and he wondered if he shouldn't have said anything at all. _Too late for it now, _he thought. _Might as well tell the truth. I'm damned either way._

"But... perhaps there's been enough revenge," he offered. "Your parents became teryns and my father just an arl after the war, and he never forgot it. I suspect that all those years of bitterness are the cause of what he did. And I don't know where you were when he attacked your family, but wherever you were, you weren't able to stop him, so you killed him in return." He shook his head. "And I... I thought that I might be able to redeem the Howe name by doing what was 'right,' killing you for killing him. But coming here... it just made me think about growing up in this house, and reminded me of all the memories I've tried for years to forget. This revenge cycle has to end somewhere; maybe it can be with me." He sighed. _I sound like a fool._ "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry for what he did," he said. "No amount of 'sorry' is going to make it any better. But I _am_ sorry."

She was silent for a while, looking at him critically. He knew that she must be wondering how genuine this sudden outburst was. _I'm a Howe, and therefore untrustworthy, _he thought a little bitterly. _But I'll die having said what I really thought, for the first time._

"Thank you," she said finally, sounding a little puzzled, like she wasn't quite sure that to think of this sudden apology. "I-" she started, stopped herself, then shook her head and continued. "I'm sorry too. For what I did to your father. I doubt you believe me, but it wasn't something I did lightly, and I haven't forgotten it. If he'd surrendered, if there had been any other way to stop him-"

"I wouldn't have taken it, if I was in your position," he cut her off bluntly. "He deserved what he got, and had it coming for a long time. He may have been my father, but I know what he was like. I didn't often think of him or his madness for power and revenge when I lived in the Free Marches. I don't miss the man. He was my father by blood, but nothing else. Being here, and seeing everything I grew up with, it made me miss what we _could_ have had but never truly did." He shrugged. "It sounds heartless, when I think it and say it, but he's gone and I may as well be honest."

She was silent again, and they spent a few long moments looking at each other. He suspected he was fooling himself, but he didn't see any judgment in her eyes. _We don't know each other at all, _he reminded himself. _We judge each other on past actions, and on the actions of our parents, without a clue about who the other really is. What could have happened without the Blight and my father murdering her parents and her killing my father? _They were both the younger children of nobles, after all, both insurance for their families in case something should happen to the heirs, and likely more similar than either of them would readily admit.

For a brief moment, he felt like they weren't a powerful teryn's daughter and a universally hated arl's son, the Warden-Commander and a disgraced thief, a judge and a prisoner. They were just young people who would never be nobles, never directly deal with political squabbles, never have to worry about doing anything but what they wanted in life. They were equals.

But he remembered, suddenly, that she was the queen of Ferelden, and any feeling of equality vanished. He was the son of the man who killed the queen's family, and none of his noble sentiments about revenge needing to end somewhere meant anything at all. Any hope that he'd had for getting out of this situation alive was extinguished, and there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I've decided what to do with you," she said, disturbing his reverie.

"Already?" he asked, no longer surprised. _I'm about to die. _"Good."

The guard walked back through the door just a moment later.

"I brought the seneschal for you, Commander," he said, and the man himself approached the cell. The Warden turned and stepped out of it to stand next to him.

"I see you've spoken to our guest. Quite the handful, isn't he?" Varel asked, sounding slightly amused. "Have you decided what's to be done with him?"

She glanced at Nathaniel briefly before turning back to the seneschal. "Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?"

"A Howe?" Varel sounded surprised for a moment, then shook his head. "It figures they would turn up again." _He sounds like he's talking about pests like rats, instead of my entire family, _Nathaniel thought angrily, his hands clenching into fists. "The Howes are implacable enemies, Commander."

Cousland was silent for a long moment, and he waited impatiently for her to tell him that he was going to die. He wondered how it would happen. _Will she hang me? Send me at the darkspawn with no armor or weapons? Or perhaps kill me herself? _"I wish to invoke the Right of Conscription," she said without elaboration.

"You _what_?" Nathaniel's jaw practically dropped. _I come here to kill her, and my father kills her family, but instead of killing me, she wants to make me a Warden? Is she _mad_? What kind of queen, what kind of _person_ is she, that she would make this decision?_

Varel seemed to be in shock as well. "I'm sorry, Commander... the Right of Conscription? On the prisoner?" he asked, as if he didn't quite believe his ears.

"No!" he insisted, trying to ignore Varel. "Absolutely not! Hang me first!" _I won't live the rest of my life with men who spit on my family name, _he thought angrily. _I won't protect them from the darkspawn, I won't work to help those who hate me, and I won't be indebted to this woman._

She looked at him and their eyes met again. "Did I say I was giving you a choice?" she asked, and the tone in her voice surprised him. No fanfare, no emotion, no doubt in her decision as she simply gave him his life back.

"You really want a Howe as a Grey Warden?" he asked, his voice still colored with doubt. "You are a very strange woman." He shook his head and couldn't help but laugh at himself. "I can't decide if this is a vote of confidence or punishment," he said honestly.

"An... interesting decision, Commander," Varel said, still sounding just as doubtful as Nathaniel himself felt. "Come with me, ser. We'll see if you survive the Joining."

The guard stepped into his cell a bit gingerly to unlock Nathaniel's shackles and free his hands at last, then scurried out of the way to let him walk out on his own. He rubbed at his wrists, raw from his three days in chains, and looked at Cousland again. She met his eyes, and the two of them just stared at each other. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but this didn't surprise him – he found her quite impossible to read, even when she was saying exactly what she thought.

But her green eyes weren't quite as cold as they had been before, and her face not quite so emotionless. In fact, he'd venture to say she looked _curious,_ of all things.

_She wants to see what I'm made of, _he thought, breaking eye contact to follow the seneschal out of the jail, _and I'd like to see the same about her. _She was the queen and he had wanted to kill her, but they would both just be Wardens soon, and truly equals, like he'd previously wondered if they could have been. And as he stepped outside into the sunlight, for the first time in ages, he was truly excited to find out where his life would go from here.


End file.
